User blog:TheOneKnownAsMonkey/The Story I Teld About Before
The War The war was consuming all the kingdom of Asgheroth. No man could escape it. Their king, Louis VII, was so obsessed with winning their enemies territory, that he himself was planning to go to the war. The worst part? It looked like that he, Michel VII, was the only one that could realize the stupidy of the event. But, as all the other young men, he was also forced to go to that terrible war. He knew that or he would die in the battlefield, or he would die running from it. He preferred the second option. Michel was marching across a river, with five other companions whose names he didn´t even know. King Louis territory was sure big. And that was why their enemy, the reign of Damor, wanted it so much. Their enemy king, Nathaniel II, even promised that the person who killed lord Louis would be his heir to the throne. Now, at least a hundred people would be chasing King Louis. Another reason for the war to stop. But would King Nathaniel get his ransom off after the end of the war? ‘So many doubts’, Michel thought. He looked at himself in the river. His almost bald black hair was, somehow, messy, his short beard wouldn´t even reach the neck, his blue-green eyes would make their enemies think that he was blind, his skinny body would confuse people to think he couldn´t even wield a blade, but that was all wrong. King Louis himself had said the young man needed to go to the war, as ‘one of the kingdom best warriors’. That was five hours after they had met. But he still knew that wasn´t enough. Their enemy wouldn´t stop, no matter what. Asgheroth was big, but the man of Damor was considered one of the strongest in all World. They would maybe be beaten by the Moors, who had an advanced form of battle. But Asgheroth wouldn´t even get close since he was he the only one who actually realized the situation. He continued marching. 30 minutes had passed, and he could feel what he was more afraid of. Suffering. Death. He was on the Battlefield. Michel VII looked at his companions. They were gone for the war. But not him. He was afraid of having to kill someone, he was afraid of dying, he was afraid of the others dying… He would run away from battle. It was his only chance, and he would get it. Michel couldn´t focus on anything else beside running. Almost an hour had passed since he last saw his companions. As far as he knew, nobody was chasing him. But, he needed to drink. He was so thirsty, he was so hungry… What would he do for a piece of meat and water from the river? His life was so good before the war happened… Then he heard it. Steps. They weren’t his, thought. They were so much louder, so much heavier… Then, he looked back. The biggest error of his life. Two big, one red, other brown bearded man, both with green eyes, covered in full armor and with a sword in their hands, they were chasing him. And, by looking back, the two men had just the time to get Michel. “You dirty slug!” said one of the terrible man just after he got hold of Michel “running way from battle, huh? And better, with the looks of an authentic Asgheroth warrior!” Michel made big mistakes sometime. One of them was letting his red helmet on his head, what represented Asgheroth. “Will you kill me?” asked Michel. “If we will kill you? Ha. No. The mighty lord of Damor has better plans for you.” And that way, Michel went with the two men to the kingdom of Damor. So hungry. So thirsty. Michel VII was trapped. The sun pointed at him, and he could barely open his eyes. It was the worst feeling he ever had. But it would get worse. Much, much worse. Michel, with courage, tried to look down. And what he saw made him panic. The War. The War he run of, The War he was so afraid of, The War that consumed the lifes of thousands and still didn´t finish… And he could do nothing about it. Death was better than this. Hunger, thirst, hot, sickness, and worst of all, panic. The kingdom of Damor was so bad… But was Michel even sure that Asgheroth wouldn´t do the same thing? No. Both kingdoms we´re consumed by this terrible war. All Michel wanted was to stop this war and return for his family. It was night. Michel VII couldn´t see anything, maybe by the dark, maybe by the hunger and thirst that consumed him. But it was good this way. He wouldn´t have to face this war, and nothing else, ever again. Michel VII smiled. That would be good. But then, steps. Two men in the armor of Damor brought a piece of bread and a cup of water. “Eat it!” one of them yelled as soon as they put the bread near Michel´s mouth. Of course, the man of Asgheroth was forced to eat the bread, and after, drink the water. “It will be enough for him to survive another day” said one of the guards said the other, as they both left. Michel felt better with the food, but was more desperate than ever before. The Kingdom of Damor would keep him alive, and even give real food to himself… But only to see his pain. Weeks passed. Michel continued his hopless and painful life. He saw deaths, pain, fury, and nothing more. Then, that day night, he heard the two guards talking about the best thing he heard in years: a peace treaty with Asgheroth was being planned. He still felt horrible, but he knew that was going to end soon. Four days later, the two guards went with the food much before the traditional time. They looked ansious. After they gave Michel the short meal, they announced something: “Our kingdom have signed a peace treaty with your land, Asgheroth. But, don´t get happy. The proof of the loyalty was… that you would stay here for 20 more years.” No. No. Michel couldn´t believe him. His own land had sold him to 20 years of punishment! What he thought before was right. Asgheroth was no better than Damor. And that way, Michel VII spent 20 more years of his life suffering hunger, thirst, sickness, and seeing the mark of what he was more afraid of. Category:Blog posts